


we are (soul) family

by softfloralbro



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anxiety Disorder, Coming Out, Ensemble Fic, F/M, Found Family, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Soulmates, Rated for swearing, Romantic Soulmates, chosen family, content curation is the 6th love language, gender studies discussions of hetero- and amatonormativity, soulfamily au, we got it all fam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softfloralbro/pseuds/softfloralbro
Summary: "If soulmates do exist, they're not found, they're made. People meet, they get a good feeling, and then they get to work building a relationship." - Michael, The Good Placea soulmate au that celebrates chosen family and all sorts of connections, be they romantic or platonic. your soulfamily is the people who see you and love you and who you love in return.OR: sometimes a family is a D1 NCAA hockey team, and that's beautiful
Relationships: Adam "Holster" Birkholtz/Justin "Ransom" Oluransi, Justin "Ransom" Oluransi & Jack Zimmermann, Larissa "Lardo" Duan & Jack Zimmermann, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Shitty Knight & Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	1. Year 1 - Preface

**Author's Note:**

> y'all, i am SO SAD that check please has ended, but i am SO GLAD that it's been such a beautiful part of my life for so long. i love these good hockey boys almost as much as they love each other, and i'm so excited to finally share the project that's taken over my life for months, this 13-pairing logistical nightmare of my own making.
> 
> this fic is a retelling of canon, year by year, with each chapter exploring a pairing. some pairings will have multiple chapters across the four years, and most of them will wander in and out of the background of the chapters of other pairings.
> 
> thank you, ngozi, for making such a beautiful story about wonderful characters loving and accepting each other.
> 
> written for the Going Out With A Big Bang 2020 event

Based on all of their practices, Bitty had expected Jack to be in his own head before the first game of the season. But he's not, he's taking a picture of Shitty taping his stick and laughing. 

After the camera clicks, Shitty starts hanging off of Jack, chanting "show me show me show me."

Jack does. 

"Are you gonna send that pic to Lardo? Get your pregame soulmate ritual on long-distance?" Shitty asks.

Jack nods.

"Ugh no fair, I can't wrestle with Lards and see who can mess up whose hair more long-distance. How am I gonna play a good game without my soulmate disgracing the flow? WILL NO ONE THINK OF THE FLOW???"

Jack gets a glint in his eye. "You know Shits, I am also your soulmate."

There's a moment of recognition of what's about to happen, and in that split second, Jack lunges. 

Bitty chuckles, and turns his attention away from the wrestling match. Holster and Ransom are in the middle of what looks to be a very elaborate secret handshake, the kind other kids had with their friends in elementary school. There's a spin, a trust fall, and it ends in...a kiss on the cheek? He knows Ransom and Holster are soulmates, but he was under the impression that they're both straight. He'll ask Shitty about it later.

They're about to go out on the ice, and Bitty notices Jack pull Ransom aside. Jack leads them through what looks like a breathing exercise. Ransom nods after a few deep breaths, and then Jack leads the team out onto the ice.


	2. Year 1 - Jack&Shitty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content note: Jack discusses his overdose with Shitty. It's not graphic, but if you'd like to skip that part, it starts at 'Jack nods as he takes this in. He steels his jaw, having made a decision.' and ends at '"Jack," Shitty says softly, "thank you for trusting me with this.'

The thing about Jack Zimmermann is that he's quiet. Both by nature, and through years of finding out that most people aren't interested in him past hockey. His therapist would say that that's his low self-esteem talking and that he should try to open up. But he knows the guys think he's a hockey robot, and maybe it's easier to lean into that than talk about anything else—from the frivolous, like his love of old movies, to the serious things,like his mental health. It's just easier to stick to what they expect from him—being good at hockey and standoffish about everything else. 

When Shitty Knight decides to be his friend, he's (internally) quite excited—Shitty seems to be impervious to the hockey robot and doesn't seem to need a lot of input from Jack to be happy conversing with him. 

They're at team breakfast when Shitty gets a text. He says it's from one of his old teammates

"Oh, is it your soulmate?" Jack asks. "How is he? I know you were worried about him last week."

Shitty seems taken aback for a moment, then his eyes get soft. "Yeah, it is Nursey, actually. My old liney is being a dick to him again…"

The thing about Shitty Knight is that he's loud. He doesn't necessarily talk to fill space or because silence is uncomfortable, just because he has _so many_ thoughts swirling around his brain constantly and he needs a pressure relief valve or he'll explode. He's used to people tuning him out and having to repeat himself to make a point before people hear him—actually _hear_ what he's saying, not just have his word soundwaves hit their eardrums.

Shitty knows he can be kind of annoying; he tries to not grate on people's nerves _too_ much—he knows how to take a hint, alright?—but Jack never seems to reach that level with him. He uh-huh's in the right places, looks at him studiously like he's really thinking about the ideas Shitty's talking about, even asks the occasional clarification or follow-up question. It's when he starts bringing up stuff from previous conversations that Shitty realizes he's actually listening. That his monologue isn't just falling on Jack's ears.

Jack likes Shitty because he pushes him, but not in hurtful ways. He comes over to Jack's single after his classes and drapes himself across Jack's bed—regardless of whether or not Jack is currently in said bed. He's never once asked about the draft, Kent Parson, or rehab. He makes Jack believe that maybe he's worth caring about outside of hockey. 

Despite this, sometimes his anxiety gets the better of him. It's three days before their first game of the season, and Jack is having worse anxiety than he's had in months. It's his first official game since Before, and he knows eyes will be on him. He and Shitty had planned to hang out yesterday, but Jack couldn't make words or even a text happen. He knows Shitty's really worried, so he works himself up to text Shitty.

_Hey, can you come over after class? I need to tell you something_

Shitty texts back immediately. _sure. you ok?_

Jack starts to type out a response, and then erases it. He tries again, and then erases that too. He's never been good at expressing himself with words, and that goes doubly for texts. He finally gives up and just writes _Can we talk about it when you get here?_

Soon enough, Jack hears a soft knock on his door. He opens it immediately, to an out-of-breath Shitty Knight. He must have ran all the way from class. Jack lets him in and Shitty sits down at his desk chair. Jack returns to pacing, trying to find the words to begin to apologize and explain.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and starts, "About yesterday. I, euh, I had a panic attack. Worst I've had in a while. I know I worried you but I just. Couldn't."

"Hey, that's okay. I've had friends who get panic attacks, my soulmate from Andover actually. What can I do to be there for you? I know sometimes touch can be, oh what's the word. Grounding? But also sometimes make it way worse."

That…wasn't what Jack was expecting. "That's not what I thought you were gonna say. Wow."

"Jack, I don't know what you were anxious about, but I can promise you that I'm never gonna judge you for how your brain works. Hell, you don't judge me for mine, so."

Jack nods as he takes this in. He steels his jaw, having made a decision. "Shitty, did I ever tell you about the draft?" he asks, knowing full-well he hasn't.

Shitty, to his credit, just shakes his head.

"Well, I'd been taking medication for my anxiety for months. Every time my chest would seize with thoughts about the future or I'd hear someone say something about living up to my father's legacy, I'd pop a pill. It helped, for a while. It started not to though, either because the anxiety got worse or the pills got less effective. And I had to take more to get the same effect. The uh, the night before the draft, I took the whole bottle. I still couldn't tell you if I wanted out or if I just wanted the anxiety to stop. Maybe at that point they were the same thing.

"When I came to, I was in a hospital bed. Kenny had gone first in the draft. My parents were sitting beside me. They cried and said they were so relieved that I was alive. I didn't feel alive, but I couldn't tell them that.

"I got into rehab, I’m off my medication, and I know some better ways to handle anxiety. It's still not great though. I did—am doing, really— a lot of therapy. Both individual and family. Stuff is better with my parents now, they understand more what's going on. It's hard to let new people know though. I know what everyone thinks about me. What I've heard whispered when they think I can't hear, but uh. Yeah. It wasn't cocaine. It was prescription anxiety medication for my anxiety disorder."

"Jack," Shitty says softly, "thank you for trusting me with this. I am so proud of you and so honored that you let me in. Can I hug you?"

"Euh, not right now? If that's okay?"

"Absolutely. Let me know when you're up to it."

"Thanks, Shits. For… Well, for everything."

\\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ 

Shitty likes his gender studies classes, he thinks he'll likely end up majoring in WGSS. He likes talking through what he learned with Jack. Jack always listens, and he has a lot more to say back than he did their first semester. Shitty's noticed the things Jack likes best, though, are the history bits.

So Shitty brings home things he learns about history of social movements, of women, of queer people.

"Jack, did you know women in the early 20th century used hat pins as self defense weapons?" "Jack, did you know that doctors used to treat 'female hysteria' by giving their patients clitoral orgasms?" "Jack, did you know that early Hollywood was queer as shit? Then some uppity Hays dude came along and created a code and a system to enforce it that censored the movie industry for over 30 years?"

That last one came with a record number of follow-up questions from Jack, and Shitty ended up forwarding him his readings. It's not the first time Jack's interest has piqued at something from his History of Sexuality class. Shitty senses that there's something more behind Jack's interest, but he's not about to push. Jack will say what he wants to say when he's ready to say it, but in the meantime, Shitty's just gonna keep bringing him home bits of queer history.

_/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ 

Jack's always liked old movies. Well, actually, that's not true. Alicia has always liked old movies. She's invited him to watch them with her for years, but he never took her up on it until after the overdose. In the weeks after he came home from rehab, Alicia and Jack watched almost all of Cary Grant's filmography, with Katharine Hepburn's not far behind.

When Shitty started a conversation with "guess what I learned in class today," Jack had not been prepared to hear that the glamorous old movie stars that he'd come to associate with getting better were queer. 

"Well, not all of them, and a lot of them it's only rumored, but when you consider the politics of being an out public figure for the majority of the 20th century... Anyways, it's unequivocally a non-zero number of old Hollywood actors and actresses that were totes hella gay. Or bi. The way we construct bisexuality has also drastically changed, so it's really hard to say what label they were to use if they self-identified at all, let alone with today's language. _The point though:_ old Hollywood was queer as shit."

As he reads through the assigned readings Shitty had shared with him, he can't help but consider how big this feels, finding out that he shares _this_ with these people he's looked up to for years. He wonders how he would have felt if he had known earlier. Before the Draft, when he and Kent were scared dumb kids in love. Even after the Draft, when he was recovering, and trying to find ways of being a person outside of hockey. What it would have been like to know that someone he wanted to be like was already like him.

Jack is reading another one of the assignments Shitty's passed along from his History of Sexuality class, this time a full length book about gay men and women who served in World War II. He absolutely devours the book, but doesn't talk about it for a couple days. He has So Much to say but he doesn't want to say it wrong. He has to take the time to process so he says it right.

When he finally is ready to say it, he asks Shitty to come over to his dorm. It's an afternoon when they don't have practice and neither of them have class, so he can take as long as he needs to to say what he's decided he wants to say.

"So I finished the book you lent me."

"Bro for real?? How did you find the time? I lent you that like a week ago, _tops_."

"Yeah, I actually finished it a couple days ago. I found it really interesting." 

Jack then proceeds to give a 10 minute synopsis of _Coming Out Under Fire_. He explains, in detail, how the punishments for homosexual conduct changed over the course of the war, from prison and hard labor to dishonorable discharge or dismissal. How the change was a result of advocacy to treat homosexuals not as criminals, but instead as mentally unstable. That reformers argued that the old system was "archaic, ineffective, and cruel", but with a heavy emphasis on ineffective—that prison life wasn't any good at curing or deterring sexual deviance, so maybe mental hospitals would be better. That even reformers still agreed that 'most or all homosexuals were bad for discipline, bad for morale, and had no place in the military'.

"And those quotes, they felt familiar. Like the things I've heard about gay men in sports my whole life. Obviously, the stakes are completely different—no one is getting sentenced to 5 to 10 years of hard labor for being caught with another guy, but I've listened to people say shit for _decades_ about how gay players would be a distraction on the ice, a disruption in the locker room, and no matter what they did or how good a player they were, they would always be a weak spot on the team.

"The gay men and women I read about in that book couldn't come out. When they were outed, they were punished. I am not in that situation, or at least not one that dire. I want to honor them by doing this for me." Jack takes a deep breath, and finally says the words out loud. "Shitty, I'm gay. Or bi? Euh, I'm not really sure, but I do know that I like guys."

"Jack," Shitty says tearfully, "thank you so much for trusting me with this moment. I can't imagine what it would be like to be in your position, and I want you to know how honored I am that you would trust me with this. You're one of the bravest, strongest people I know. Can I hug you, man? I'm like legit gonna cry if I can't hug you."

"Shits, you're already crying. But yes. I would love a hug."

Shitty absolutely launches himself at Jack, and Jack lets himself be tackled. Through their laughter, Jack feels a tingle of a soulmark. He laughs with joy. Shitty's laughing too. Well, laughing and crying, but they're happy tears.

"Bro you're so fucking majestic, I love you so much," Shitty cries into his shoulder. "Also," he says, looking up at Jack, "you're allowed to explore your sexuality and you don't have to have a word yet, if ever. It's okay to just know that you're not straight and figure words out as you go."

Jack nods, and feels so so lucky that this person, this ridiculous validation machine of a bro, is his soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (you know it's me writing shitty knight when there's citations at the end of the chapter)
> 
> things shitty brings home:  
> the hat pins thing  
> <https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/hatpin-peril-terrorized-men-who-couldnt-handle-20th-century-woman-180951219/>
> 
> hysteria  
> [http://victorian-era.org/female-hysteria-during-victorian-era.html](http://victorian-era.org/female-hysteria-during-victorian-era.html<br%20/>)  
> <https://bigthink.com/videos/what-was-female-hysteria-really>
> 
> hayes code and queer old hollywood  
> <https://medium.com/@sophiecleg/how-did-the-hollywood-production-code-of-1930-shape-the-representation-of-lgbt-characters-in-film-93e92a4fec62>  
> <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pre-Code_Hollywood>  
> [Tuck In Podcast](https://tuckinpodcast.tumblr.com/)  
> 
> 
> Queer WWII  
> The book Jack reads on Shitty's recommendation is Allan Bérubé's Coming Out Under Fire: The History of Gay Men and Women in World War II. It was originally published in 1990.
> 
> The passage that Jack quotes, "But both factions [reformers and their opposition] agreed that most or all homosexuals were bad for discipline, bad for morale, and had no place in the military" is on p. 131 of the 20th anniversary edition. Most of the information Jack talks about is in chapter 5, but the whole thing's a great read. There's also a documentary by the same name that's footage of interviews with gay WWII veterans. It's so powerful, I highly recommend it.


	3. Year 1 - Bitty and Shitty talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: parts of dialogue in this chapter come directly from canon and belong to Ngozi

Shitty comes home to the Haus after class. He's exhausted and pissed off about it, but it smells like Bitty is there and baking, thank  _ fuck _ .

"Hi Shitty! I'm experimenting with mix-ins for carrot cake cupcakes and, oh gosh, hon are you okay?" Bitty asks as Shitty collapses in a chair at the table. Bitty goes ahead and places a cupcake in front of him. He takes a bite and moans pornographically. 

"Bitty, you beautiful motherfucking lord and savior of this fucking goddamn shitshow of a Tuesday."

Bitty hums sympathetically. "Rough day?"

"Like you would not BELIEVE. Someone in my Sex, Love, and Soulmates Studies class said some amatonormative borderline-sexist nonsense, and like. Amatonormativity is the REALEST and we NEVER talk about it and I! Am! Over! It!" Shitty says, punctuating each word by pounding the kitchen table with the hand not holding his cupcake.

"Platonic soulbonds are _ just as important  _ to have in your life as romantic soulbonds, and you could quit being so damn heteronormative about it."

Bitty looks confused and slightly overwhelmed. "What?"

"Okay, so like, me and Lardo, we're soulmates, yeah? Also sidebar: I can't wait for you to meet Lardo next semester. She is the SHIT, you're gonna love her. Anyways, we're hella platonic and our relationship is DOPE, but everyone's always like 'well then why aren't you together', as if our soulbond is not as valid as theirs because we're not sleeping together and we're not in love? Bullshit. Me and Jack are platonic soulmates and no one ever gives us shit for it. I have never once in the entire time I've been bonded with Jack had anyone tell me that we should 'at least try to see if there's a spark' or whatever the fuck shit Lardo and I get all the time. People readily accept me and Jack as platonic because we're both dudes, but because me and Lardo read as straight, everyone's always like 'well then it's GOTTA be romantic between you two'. Do you know how many times I've been told I'm in denial about my feelings for Lardo? Like fucking TRUST me bro, I fucking love Larissa Duan with my whole entire ass soul and I am 0% in denial about it.

"I want to be with her forever and it is truly a goddamn privilege to watch her grow as an artist and also as a person, but when I see her again when she gets back from her study abroad, am I going to sweep her off her feet and romance the hell out of her? Probs not. I mean, I might pick her up? She’s a great size for picking up. Also a great size for cuddling. She’s just really great." Shitty pauses, looking off into space. "What was I talking about?"

"A..mat...onormativity?" Bitty prompts, stumbling over the word.

"AMATONORMATIVITY! So like, I love Lardo and she's one of the best people I've ever met. But it is supes not romantic or sexual. And because people look at us and see a man and a woman, they think there's no way we could possibly be soulmates and not be romantically and sexually involved. AND THEN, as if the disbelief isn't enough, they go and say, outright or implicitly, that our bond isn't as valuable as romantic bonds. It's so fucking dumb."

Shitty sighs. "Anyways, can I take one or three of these cupcakes up to my room? I gotta go do research for this class so I can take this fucker down on Thursday. Also I'll probably end up using it as the topic of my term paper."

Bitty nods, and hands him some cupcakes. Shitty grins, kisses him on the forehead, and runs upstairs. 

\\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ 

"I've been wanting to say this for a while now, but sometimes it's hard to tell friends things that—well, you always knew, but took you...some time to come to terms with… and finding a good time and place is always so tricky, you know?" 

"Wait, are those index cards?"

Bitty plows on, undeterred. "I mean at the beginning of the school year? Is that the first impression you want to make? What about midterms? When everyone's runnin' round like hens with their heads cut off? And you can't just mention it in the locker room, can you? Over team breakfast? Walking back from practice? Maybe at a Haus party? Should you draft a powerpoint? Sky writing?"

"Bitty!"

Bitty sighs. "I guess what I'm trying to say is—I'm gay."

Shitty breaks into a grin, "That's cool bro!"

"That's the first time I ever said that out loud to anyone. To myself. Those exact words."

"Bitty," Shitty says,  heartfeltly, "thank you for trusting me with this moment. I am so proud of you. Can I hug you?"

Bitty's breath quickens. "Yeah."

When they pull away from the hug, Bitty looks a little sad.

"Bro, is everything okay?"

"Oh, um. I guess I was kinda hopin'... This is silly, but. Uh, I was kind of hopin' we'd be soulmates? Like what happens in all the movies when someone comes out for the first time? This is dumb, I'm sorry, forget I said anything," Bitty says, and turns to walk away.

Shitty puts a hand on his shoulder and stops him. "Bitty, that's not dumb at all. Representation affects how we see ourselves and our lives really profoundly. And it's a trope for a reason. I know lots of people who got soulmarks after they came out—it's not silly to hope for that for yourself. The act of letting someone in and being vulnerable with them is a big part of what soulmates are all about. But not being soulmates with the first person you let in doesn't mean anything; it just means that you and I aren't soulmates."

Bitty nods but still looks crestfallen.

"Bro, we're bros, and that's tight as hell. Relationships don't need to come with a soulmark to be wonderful and close and so, so valuable. I love you, Bits. You're a good friend."

"I just. What if I never get a soulmate. I'm 18 and I don't have any. Look at you, you're only a couple of years older than me and you already have like five."

"Bits, please don't compare yourself to me. Our situations are hella different, and even if we were identical in every way, you'd still be absolutely valid. Just because you aren't soulmates with the first person you let in doesn't change that. It doesn't mean you're broken, or incapable of love, or any of those things. Just because we're not soulmates doesn't mean that you won't have many beautiful, fulfilling relationships in your life, doesn't mean that you don't  _ already _ have beautiful, fulfilling relationships."

Bitty takes a shaky breath in. "Yeah, yeah that's true. Y'all are pretty great friends."

"Bro, can I hug you again?"

Bitty nods. This time the hug isn't filled with nervous anticipation. It's full of  validation and comfort and warmth .


	4. Year 1 - Jack&Ransom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for depictions of panic attacks and having someone help you through them. The first one starts "Jack gets to practice early one November afternoon" and ends at the first line break "Yeah, of course." It is not written from the POV of the person experiencing the panic attack. 
> 
> The second one starts "He's under a table. That's cool." and ends at the paragraph that starts "I know how that feels. It helps me to make to-do lists." This one is from the POV of the person experiencing the panic attack.

Jack gets to practice early one November afternoon—he has to talk to Coach Hall about a new play he wants to try out. He's dropping his stuff off in the locker room when he hears what sounds like someone hyperventilating. 

Sure enough, when he rounds the corner, he finds Ransom sitting on a bench with his head between his knees. He'd thought that Ransom might have anxiety, just based off of some of the things he said when he was stressed, but finding him mid-panic attack confirmed his suspicions.

He tentatively drops to the bench next to Ransom, being careful not to touch him or get too much in his space.

"Hey bud," Jack says.

Justin's eyes widen and his breathing quickens.

"Hey, no it's okay, can you breathe with me?"

Justin nods.

"Okay, we're gonna breathe in for 3 counts and out for 4. In two three, out two three four, that's great let's do it again, in two three, out two three four. In two three, out two three four. Yeah, you're doing great, let's do it a little longer, in two three four and out two three four five." After Justin's breathing gradually evens out, Jack asks him to name five things he can see.

"My shoes, the locker room floor, the bench, my  kit  and, um, your shoes."

"Great job. Four things you can feel?"

"Feel?"

"Like things you're touching, the way your shirt feels against your skin or the ground beneath your feet."

"Okay. My pants against my legs. My hands against my pants. Wait does that only count as one," Justin's breathing quickens as he starts to panic he's doing the exercise wrong.

"You're doing great. Those can be two things, just focus on the way your pants feel against your legs and against your hands. What does that texture feel like?"

"Um, my sweatpants are soft. Fuzzy, kinda."

"Good, that's good. Can you name two more things you can feel?"

"My feet against the floor. The air on my neck."

"Good. Three things you can hear?"

"Your voice, the air in the vents, my own voice."

"Two things you can smell?"

"Locker room rank, your cologne."

"I'm not wearing any cologne? You might be smelling my deodorant."

"Oh. Well, it uh. Smells nice."

Jack thanks him with a chuckle. "And now can you tell me one thing you like about yourself?"

"Huh? I thought you were gonna ask me to tell you one thing I could taste."

"That's actually how I learned this exercise first, but another therapist took me through it with this question last instead and I liked it, so. One thing you like about yourself."

"Okay. Um, I'm good on the ice."

"You are." Jack pauses. "Are you feeling a bit better now?"

"Yeah, I think I am. Can you like, sit with me for a minute though?"

"Yeah, of course." 

After a while, Jack speaks up again. "Hey, Justin?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you might have anxiety."

"Shit, is that what that is? It feels like what I imagine claustrophobia feels like."

"That's definitely one way anxiety can feel, yeah." Jack pauses, unsure how to ask what he wants to ask. "Would you be willing to talk to someone about it?"

Ransom shakes his head

"Okay, that's okay. I'm here for you, as your captain but also as your friend. If you decide you want help getting help, I can, er, help you." Jack pauses. "I have anxiety too, and I don't want yours to get as bad as mine before you start getting help."

At this, Justin flinches. "I'm a f-f-f-fucking 6'2" defense man," he stutters out. "I shouldn't need help like this."

Jack changes tactics. "Ransom, do you think I'm weak?"

"What? No of course not. You're Jack Zimmermann."

"And I'm a Jack Zimmermann who overdosed on his anxiety medication the night before the NHL draft, because I couldn't handle the pressure that was being put on me."

"But that's different."

"It's really not though. Maybe you don't have cameras on you and journalists openly analyzing your every move for fun and profit, but you have a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You're 18 and in your first semester of college, and you're already worried about getting into med school. That's not easy to deal with for anyone, let alone a student athlete who has hockey taking up this much time in their schedule."

"It's hard," Justin admits quietly.

"I know it is. But you are not weak for finding something challenging."

"But—" Justin starts.

"No buts. You aren't," Jack slips into his captain voice, "if I'm not weak then you're not weak. And you just told me that I'm not weak." He backs off the captain voice, shooting for more of a friend tone. "Here, have some water and a protein bar. I keep some in my bag, having a snack helps when you're coming down from a panic attack."

\\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ 

He's under a table. That's cool.  _ When did that happen, how long have I been under this table. Probably not long enough to have finals be over, right? Oh god how much study time have I lost in liminal under-table panic land. There's so much to do there's so much to do there's so much to do and oh would you look at that now I'm sideways on the floor. _

"Hey bud, how are you doing?" Jack crouches down looking at him under the table.

Justin lets out a high pitched whine.  _ That's probably an answer, right? _

"Yeah, I get that. Want to come out and talk about it?"

Justin shakes his head.

"That's okay. Is it okay if I sit with you?"

He nods.

They just sit for a while in silence. Jack is good at silence.

Eventually Justin huffs out a laugh. "You're sitting under a table, Jack."

"So are you," Jack points out.

And well, he can't really argue with that. 

"There's just. So much."

Jack hums affirmingly. 

"And it's not gonna get easier, is it? Higher level classes are harder and it's just gonna get harder from here and and and—"

"Hey. I need you to breathe with me, can you take some breaths with me? Good just like that that's great. You're right that classes are gonna get harder, but the first semester is one of the hardest. After you've done it a couple times, you find your rhythm, your flow, and it gets easier. Not easy, mind you, but it does suck less." Jack pauses. "What can we do to help you find your flow?"

"I just keep thinking about how much stuff I have to do and then I'm too overwhelmed to do any of it."

"I know how that feels. It helps me to make to-do lists. Do you want to get out from under the table and make some lists, or should I grab a notepad and bring it under here?"

"No, I think I can get up now."

They end up making a list for each of his classes. When they're each on their own pages, it feels less overwhelming, like he can just look at one at a time. Jack explains that he then color codes his lists by deadline and makes a final list of all his tasks sorted by due date instead of class.

"You know, I bet I could make a spreadsheet of this."

"If that's what makes sense to your brain, you should absolutely do that. I don't know much about Excel, but I'm happy to help in whatever way I can."

"Thank you, Jack."

"You're welcome, bud."

_/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ 

Jack receives a text from Ransom later that week.

_ Hey uh so I snapped at Holster and he's my best bro and my soulmate and I feel bad but also? His help is not helpful???? _

_ Normally I'm so down for hugs and bro'ing up our soulbond, but now's not really the time and also 'everything's going to be okay' isn't helpful becAUSE HOW DOES HE KNOW THAT, HE DOESN'T THAT'S HOW _

Jack usually doesn't text back right away, but this feels urgent. 

_ That's really tough _ ,  _ I'm sorry you're dealing with that _ .

_ Is it okay if I ask Shitty for help with this? He's really better at interpersonal stuff than me. _

He hopes it's not weird that he asked, but Ransom texts back that that's alright before Jack's own anxiety can really start spiralling. 

After his class, he heads straight for the Haus, and goes to Shitty's room first.

Shitty is, predictably, laying on his bed in just his boxers, which are neon pink and patterned with little pizza slices. He's got his laptop in front of him, which could mean he's doing his reading for class, but it also might mean nearly anything else. 

"JACK," Shitty shouts, despite him having sat down at Shitty's desk, no more than three feet away. "What is UP, my good souldude!"

"Shits, Rans is anxious and Holster doesn't know how to help. I know you've learned how to put up with me when I'm anxious really well, and I thought, well, maybe you could… help?"

"Jack, first and foremost I don't 'put up with you' or 'deal with' your anxiety; I love you, you're my soulmate, and I will always help you when your brain is mean to you. I love you. Second, I would be happy to help Holster support his soulmate with anxiety, as you are correct that I do have a lot of experience with that. Now, I assume Ransom knows we're having this conversation?" Jack nods. "Wicked. Now we gotta set up some boundaries…"

\\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ 

"ALRIGHT, SOULBROS, WE HAVE GATHERED YOU HERE TO THE SHITTY KNIGHT SUITE TODAY TO TALK ABOUT ANXIETY"

Jack leans over to Shitty, "Uh Shits, can you bring it down like two or three levels, your energy is, ironically, anxiety-inducing."

"Oh shit, yeah totally, sorry my b, guys. So to get everyone on the same page, Jack has an anxiety disorder, and while I can't empathize, I can sympathize and support like an absolute motherfucker. Ransom, would you like to describe what's happening, in your own words?"

"Yeah, so. I, um. This is actually a lot harder than I thought. It's just you guys!" His nervous laughter takes a panicked edge, and Jack nonverbally coaches him through slowing down his breathing. "I… think I might have anxiety. Maybe panic attacks from how Jack's described his? I don't really know. And I don't want to be mean, Holster, because I love you and you're my soulmate, but sometimes you're….Not helpful."

At this, Holster prickles and starts to get defensive, but Shitty stops him and reminds him that this is a safe space to talk about their feelings. Holster nods, and Shitty continues, "So since I've got experience supporting anxious soulmates, we thought Jack and I could help you guys talk about how to best help Justin." 

Everyone nods, but no one's sure what to say next.

Jack eventually volunteers, "Sometimes when I'm anxious I don't like to be touched—it makes it worse." Holster blanches. "It can be really helpful sometimes though, so Shitty always asks before he touches me when I'm having an attack."

Shitty nods. "Ransom, do you think that could work for you and Holster?"

"Sometimes when I, um, panic, I can't make words happen?"

"That's totally understandable," Jack says. "Shitty always uses yes or no questions, so I can just shake my head or nod if I'm nonverbal."

"Yeah, I think that could work," Ransom agrees.

"Holster, do you think you can do that?"

"Yes, definitely. Rans, I am so sorry that I made it worse. I know when I feel bad or worried I usually need a hug, so that's what I was trying to do. I didn't realize that it would be that bad for you."

"That's okay, you couldn't have known."

"And now you do know," Shitty interjects, "so you can be more helpful going forward. Rans, you had another thing you wanted to bring up, about validating your thoughts?"

"Yeah, I guess sometimes when I freak out I think that everything's bad and on fire and everything, and when you say 'everything's gonna be okay', that feels really… dismissive, I guess?"

"I just want to help put out the fire though. Wouldn't agreeing make it worse?"

Jack jumps in. "So when I catastrophize, telling me that everything's gonna be fine doesn't feel like putting out the fire. It feels like telling me that the fire isn't there, which in turn makes me feel like I'm crazy and freaking out for no reason. I don't know how it is for you, Justin, but I need to be validated that things suck before I can accept help problem-solving."

"That makes sense, I can definitely do that," Holster says. "What else can I do? I love you and I don't feel like just telling you 'yeah that sucks' is enough."

"Jack and Shitty actually helped me brainstorm ways that you can help." He grabs his notebook from his backpack and sits back down on Shitty's bed. "First, I think it would be helpful to maybe not have to explain what's happening to every person who is worried. Could you take on some of that, intervene when people try to talk to me?"

"Like an anxiety liaison? Yeah I can totally do that. I'll liaise the shit out of anyone who tries to interrupt you when you're studying or having anxiety."

Ransom grins. "Swawesome. Sometimes when I'm in Study Mode, I forget to eat or drink. Can you help remind me to do that? I feel so dumb asking for help remembering to drink water but also it makes my anxiety worse when I don't, sooooo..."

"Remind you to hydrate so you don't die-drate. Got it."

"This last thing is something Jack says will happen over time, but I think maybe if you could help me analyze what helps and what makes things worse so I can get better at it, that would be cool. Like I'm going to be going through this semester cycle for the next several years, so I might as well perfect it."

"You are a delicate coral reef and we must preserve your sanity. I would be honored to become your sanity conservationist, Justin."

Shitty visibly tears up. "BOYS, WE'VE DONE GREAT WORK HERE, BRING IT IN—wait are we all good for hugs? Holtzy? Rans? Jack? Swawesome. BRING IT IN, BROS."

_/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ 

Finals are over, and Jack is starting a book Shitty lent him that he hadn't had time for while he still had homework. He hears a knock on his open door, and looks up from his book to find Ransom looking nervous.

"Hey, what's up Ransom, how were your finals?"

"Good, I think. Maybe."

"I'm sure you did great, you studied really hard. I'm really proud of you."

Ransom flushes at this. He's quiet for a minute, and looks like he's trying to work up the nerve to say something. Jack gives him a small reassuring smile, as if to say  _ take all the time you need _ . 

He finally says, quietly, "I think I want to take you up on your offer. Of help getting help. This semester was really hard, and I've been thinking a lot about everything you said after that first panic attack in the locker room. I didn't know it didn't have to be this hard, that it could get better —that  _ I _ could get better." He finally looks up from the floor. "Would you still be willing to help me figure out how to get better?"

Jack puts his book down on his desk. "Justin, of course. Of course I can help you get help. Can I hug you?"

At his nod, Jack wraps him up in the fiercest hug he can manage. He's not good with words like Shitty, but he is so, so tremendously proud of his teammate and friend. Proud of him for recognizing that he needs help, that help is available, that he is not so broken that he can't be helped. 

"It takes a lot of courage to get help. I am so proud of you," Jack says into their hug.

Jack's arm tingles. Ransom whispers, "Holy shit," and Jack lets loose a laugh he didn't know he was holding in. "Wanna hang around for a while, soulmate? I have a stash of smarties I've been saving."

"Wait, Canadian smarties?"

"Of course, Canadian smarties, why would you even eat American smarties. They're just sugar chalk disks. Americans are weird."

"YES, that is what I've been saying!"

The rest of the afternoon is spent talking about Canadian things you can't get in the states, trying to catch smarties in their mouths, and  appreciating each other and their friendship .


	5. Year 1 - Jack&Lardo

Lardo gets along like a haus on fire with Shits, but she and Jack haven't had that many non-hockey-related conversations, which, to be fair, she hasn't seen him do much of with anyone.

One day she comes to the Haus after class, and pokes her head in Shitty's room. He's not there, but Jack hears her and asks if she's looking for Shitty.

"Yeah, but no worries."

"You can hang out in here until he comes back—it'll probably be soon. He said he had to go off on a 'shenanigan of the utmost importance', and that was like an hour ago."

"Oh, um, sure. I can wait."

She's worried at first that it might be awkward—they already did their manager/captain check in at practice that morning, and what else would they even talk about?—but Jack is surprisingly chill. There aren't really awkward silences, as much as there's, like, conversational negative space. Most people she talks to punctuate their words with silence, but Jack's medium is silence. He moves quietly and speaks when he has something important to say.

Up to this point, she's only seen him use this when he's captaining the team, but here in the Haus, he's more comfortable. He doesn't have to command or captain his space, he can just exist in it.

He ‘hmm’s at something he read, and she asks about it.

"I'm doing reading for one of my classes, about the history of the almost-state of Franklin. It was what's now eastern Tennessee, and they tried to be a state for like four and a half years after the end of the Revolutionary War. It wasn't clear at that point that westward expansion of the United States was going to happen at all, let alone be construed as destined, but the leaders of Franklin tried to become a state as a play to get the governing authority to acquire land and get commercial access to the Mississippi River. 

"It eventually fell apart due to their governor being charged with treason by North Carolina and subsequent in-fighting, but it's a really interesting case study on sovereignty and American independence." He reaches the end of his thought, and seems to realize how long he's been talking. He begins to stammer out an apology.

She interrupts him. "Nah that's cool. I like that your non-hockey interests include obscure American history. Adds some dimension, y'know?"

  
  
  


After that, she hangs out with Jack more often. She finds that hanging out with Jack alone is different than hanging out with him and Shitty together. Jack is more animated with Shitty—not in a performative way, but in a way that Shitty draws it out of him. He laughs louder, is more physical. Jack takes up space differently when he's not with Shitty. He's not as big; he's just existing in his natural state of quiet.

It turns out that Jack is great company to do her art homework with. When she arts with Shitty, she paints to the music of angry feminist rants and wild gesticulation. But with Jack, the energy is unhurried, and she can languidly follow whatever direction her art takes her.

_/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ 

Jack likes hanging out with Lardo. He knew he liked working with Lardo on the team; she's collected and doesn't forget stuff, and it seems to be easier to communicate with her than other people. She seems to be able to tell when his quiet should be interpreted as rudeness or anxiety versus just… quiet. This is a great quality to have in your team manager. On the ice he's not afraid to speak up when something's wrong, but off the ice—even in the locker room sometimes—it's harder. She picks up on it when things are off, and she helps to resolve them. They'll check in about it, but she's often the one to initiate the check-in. She's not afraid of him in the way that some other people on the team are.

They start hanging out outside of practice, and it's pretty cool. It's cool to be quiet with another person and not worry he's doing something wrong. His parents are both extroverts—especially his father—and they're both amazing at interacting with the media and people in general. Jack is neither of these things, and he's used to feeling like he disappoints people in conversations.

Being friends with Shitty is amazing; he feels more like a person when he's with Shitty than he ever has with anyone else. When he's with Shitty, he's More than he is naturally, and that works. Shitty brings it out in him. He's noticed that people react better to him when he's with Shitty, so he's tried to put on that energy by himself. It never comes off right, and it's always so awkward after. Like, so  _ so  _ awkward. He's had more than one panic attack after attempting the 'be more like Shitty' maneuver.

With Lardo though, he doesn't feel like he has to try to be like Shitty. Lardo is naturally quieter than Shitty; she's more like Jack himself. Well, not like  _ him _ . Unlike him, she exudes confidence in her quietude. She doesn't have to try to be Shitty to be confident. 

She sees the subtleties in his silences because she's quiet too. She gets it, and he doesn't have to stumble through using his out-loud words as much. She's willing to sit with him in the quiet, and that's pretty cool.

They're studying in the quad one day. Well, sitting in the grass looking at the clouds with the pretense of studying. Lardo seems to know something's up. Her pauses are more pronounced, like she's opening a conversational door if he wants to walk through it. He wants to, but doesn't know how. Eventually she asks him what he's thinking about.

He sighs heavily and says, "Soulmates."

"Yeah? Everything good with you and Shits?"

"Yeah, it is, it's just. What if it gets complicated?"

"Yeah I get that. One of my soulmates and I were complicated for a while. It sucked, but we got through it. Leo and I have been soulmates since 2nd grade. We've been through a lot together, y'know? At various points throughout middle and high school, we had crushes on each other. Tried to make it work romantically once. It didn't, we just made it awkward. But like. We pulled through. We love each other, and we're soulmates, you know? Like even if our relationship doesn't always look the same, we're still a pair. We're still together." 

Jack hums, unconvinced. "Things are still complicated with my other soulmate. I don't know if we'll ever reconcile, and I feel like it's my fault."

Lardo turns, and looks him dead in the eye. "Jack, I don't know what happened with you and your soulmate, but things are allowed to be messy and imperfect. You can figure it out together, if you both want to." 

Jack nods. He takes this in, and thinks about it for a minute. Eventually he whispers, "What if it happens again? What if I make things complicated with Shitty? I'm broken, and I don't know if I can live up to what Shitty thinks of me."

Lardo takes a turn being quiet, figuring out what to say. 

"Shitty thinks the world of you. Not because you're perfect, but because he sees you. The way he looks at you when you talk, his whole face lights up bro. Even when you're stressed. Even when he's calling you out on something. He loves you, man. The context and tone of your relationship might evolve, but I don't think he's gonna stop loving you. You're his soulmate. That means something, ya feel?"

Jack nods. Eventually, he points at a cloud and says, "That one looks like an elephant."

Lardo laughs. "No it doesn't. It's clearly a rabbit hopping off a ledge"

He smiles at her. "Yeah, I could see that." 

He's not just talking about the cloud.

\\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ \\_ 

Jack hasn't said anything directly, but he's really stressed about the upcoming game. He's been hockey robot-ing more than usual. 

The idea occurs to her while Jack is helping her with a photography project for a class that week. She's showing him how the camera works and how to frame a shot when she notices: he's less tense than she's seen him all week. His shoulders have relaxed, and he'd even chuckled when she complimented his fourth attempt at taking a picture of one of the campus geese. "It's just a goose," he said, brushing it off. 

"Nah, but look at the way the light hits its beak. It's a good goose picture, dude."

She's usually not late for the bus—it's kind of her job to be on time—but she was grabbing her camera from her dorm. She rushes to the bus, and sees Jack waiting outside. He doesn't look angry at all—at least not any more than he's been all week—and he's holding a paper. He gives it to her.

"I, euh, noticed you didn't leave your checklist where  it normally is in the locker room . I thought you might have forgotten it, so I wrote down what I could remember. I probably missed some things though, sorry."

"That's...really thoughtful. Thank you," she says as she looks over the list. "You actually got all of it."

Then she remembers the camera, the reason she was late. "I actually brought this for you," she says as they get settled on the bus. "It might help to take a couple pictures. Like, take your mind off the outcome of the game, refocus on the moment, y'know?" she explains with a shrug.

Their hands brush as she hands him the camera, and she feels the tingle of a soulmark forming on her bicep. 

Jack looks at her, clearly having felt it too, and offers a small but open smile, which she returns. He nods, and they sit next to each other on the bus and enjoy their companionable silence. 

They win their game that night. Jack and Lardo show Shitty their new soulmarks in the locker room after, and Shitty  _ sobs _ . "YOU BEAUTIFUL MOTHERFUCKERS, OF COURSE. I LOVE YOU BOTH SO MUCH, COME HERE I HAVE TO HUG YOU." 

Jack and Lardo's eyes meet around Shitty in their group hug. They don't need words to tell each other that they love each other; their quiet speaks volumes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all for now - I'll be updating in chunks as I finish the other years! Stay tuned for Friends to Lovers and the Frogs. So much stuff with the Frogs, y'all.


End file.
